Joanna Godden eBook

Sec.35

Joanna saw Ansdore looking at her through the chaffy
haze of the August afternoon. It stewed like
an apple in the sunshine, and a faint smell of apples
came from it, as its great orchard dragged its boughs
in the grass. They were reaping the Gate Field
close to the house—­the hum of the reaper
came to her, and seemed in some mysterious way to be
the voice of Ansdore itself, droning in the sunshine
and stillness. She felt her throat tighten, and
winked the tears from her eyes.

She could see Ellen coming down the drive, a cool,
white, belted figure, with trim white feet. From
her bedroom window Ellen had seen the Misleham gig
turn in at the gate, and had at once recognized the
golden blot beside Mrs. Furnese as her sister Joanna.

“Hullo, Jo! I never expected you back to-day.
Did you send a wire? For if you did, I never
got it.”

“No, I didn’t telegraph. Where’s
Mene Tekel? Tell her to come around with Nan
and carry up my box. Mrs. Furnese, ma’am,
I hope you’ll step in and drink a cup of tea.”

Joanna climbed down and kissed Ellen—­her
cheek was warm and moist, and her hair hung rough
about her ears, over one of which the orange toque,
many times set right, had come down in a final confusion.
Ellen on the other hand was as cool as she was white—­and
her hair lay smooth under a black velvet fillet.
Of late it seemed as if her face had acquired a brooding
air; it had lost its exotic look, it was dreamy, almost
virginal. Joanna felt her sister’s kiss
like snow.

“Is tea ready?”

“No—­it’s only half-past three.
But you can have it at once. You look tired.
Why didn’t you send a wire, and I’d have
had the trap to meet you.”

“No, thank you, Miss Godden—­much
obliged all the same. I’ve my man’s
tea to get, and these fowls to see to.”

She felt that the sisters would want to be alone.
Joanna would tell Ellen all about her failure, and
Mene Tekel and Nan would overhear as much as they
could, and tell Broadhurst and Crouch and the other
men, who would tell the Woolpack bar, where Mr. Furnese
would hear it and bring it home to Mrs. Furnese....
So her best way of learning the truth about the Appeal
and exactly how many thousands Joanna had lost depended
on her going home as quickly as possible.

Joanna, was glad to be alone. She went with Ellen
into the cool parlour, drinking in the relief of its
solid comfort compared with the gimcrackiness of the
parlour at Lewisham.

“I’m sorry about your Appeal,” said
Ellen—­“I saw in to-day’s paper
that you’ve lost it.”

Joanna had forgotten all about the Appeal—­it
seemed twenty-four years ago instead of twenty-four
hours that she had come out of the Law Courts and
seen Bertie standing there with the pigeons strutting
about his feet—­but she welcomed it as a
part explanation of her appearance, which she saw
now was deplorable, and her state of mind, which she
found impossible to disguise.